It Still Might as Well Be Spring
by EvergreenDreamweaver
Summary: Sequel to "It Might as Well Be Spring"; Jim and Blair are still trying to get past their altercation


Disclaimer: I do not own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was originally written in the late 1990s, so technology is not at a 2017 level. Please pardon that fact.

 **It** **Still** **Might as Well Be Spring**

By

 **EvergreenDreamweaver**

 **Plot Blurb** : Sequel to _It Might as Well Be Spring_ ; Jim and Blair are still trying to get past their altercation

A light tap on his door brought Blair Sandburg out of a sound sleep. "Chief? Better get a move on." 

Blair opened his eyes, blinked at the ceiling, and yawned. He began a luxurious stretch and stopped with a hiss as sore muscles protested the unaccustomed exercise of the day before. _Wouldn't have thought just walking a few miles could make you so stiff!_ He tried another stretch, more carefully. Something _bumped,_ down at the end of the bed. _Damn, forgot about that._ Disgusted, he raised his head and surveyed his left ankle, wrapped in an Ace bandage and propped on a pillow. He looked over at his bedside table, squinting to read the lighted digital numbers on the clock. Seven-oh-four.

That wasn't too bad. He and Jim hadn't stayed up _too_ late last night, although their heart-to-heart talk had taken awhile once they'd settled down a little, emotionally speaking. It still stung slightly, when he remembered yesterday's occurrences, but really, things were okay now. Really. _Forgive and forget….forgiving was easy. Forgetting…. No, don't go there…._

There had been a lot of 'Don't leave like that,' and 'Don't push me away,' to work through. They'd agreed to try to avoid the cold, hurt, retreating tactics both excelled at – even if it meant a bit more yelling! Not that he and Jim wanted to yell at each other, no, that wasn't it at all…but they'd decided that it might occasionally serve them better than icy withdrawal. As Jim had finally said, 'Chief, we're stuck with each other, even if it drives us both crazy sometimes.' And then he'd grinned, and added, 'And I wouldn't have it any other way.'

Moving cautiously, Blair sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, then set his feet on the floor _. So far, so good…._

"Sandburg?" Another light knock.

"I'm up, I'm up…" Grumbling beneath his breath, Blair pushed himself to his feet and took a tentative step. To his relief, his ankle only gave a few twinges, and held him up without any problems. He staggered to the door, rubbing his eyes sleepily and trying, without much success, to fluff up his slumber-matted hair. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Jim still standing there, already showered and shaved, and dressed neatly in slacks and a blue, button-down shirt. Obviously the detective had been up for awhile.

"How're you doing?"

"Mmm…okay." Blair rubbed at his face again. "Why are you ready for work so early?"

"We've got business to attend to, Junior," Ellison said dryly. "Or did you forget?"

"Business? I've got a class to teach at ten, and one to attend at eleven," Blair enumerated after a moment's thought. "I have to work on setting up that exhibit, the rest of the day; I don't know how much Andy got done, and since I was gone most of yesterday afternoon…"

"Sandburg—" The Sentinel gave his partner a patient look. "You forgetting something? Like maybe, the fact that your car is in Silverdale?"

"OHMIGOD! My car! Ohmigod!" Blair's eyes were huge blue circles of pure horror. The fact that his Volvo was sitting fifteen miles away with an empty gas tank had completely slipped his mind. "I've gotta get – Jim, do you have time to drop me – no, of course you don't; you've got to get into the station; I'll have to take a cab – oh God, I've gotta grab a shower—" Blair tried to shove past, muttering frantically.

"Chief – buddy – Sandburg!" Ellison gripped his flustered roommate by the biceps and gave him a slight shake. "Calm down. Breathe." Blair complied, although his eyes were still a bit wild. When Jim was satisfied that his Guide was listening, he continued. "Relax. I've got it all figured out. While you're in the shower, I'll run down to the Arco station and get a can of gasoline. And I'll pick up something for breakfast that we can eat on the way. Then we'll drive out to Silverdale, get your car, and I'll head to the station. You'll get over to Rainier; you can work on your exhibit before your class – and don't forget to gas up on the way!"

There were times, Blair reflected with satisfaction, that it was a really _nice_ thing to have a former Army Ranger Captain for a partner. Someone who thought out a plan with all the details, and figured out timetables and routes and courses of action, and then informed you what was going to happen. Someone who just…took charge. Not that he'd ever tell _Jim_ that, of course! The Sentinel would be insufferably smug if he did.

"Okay, that works," he nodded, relief evident on his face. He started once more for the bathroom. "Oh – and Jim? Pick up some children's allergy medicine, too." Blair kept his back turned and waited for the inevitable protests. Right on schedule, Jim obliged.

"Huh? Why? I'm not gonna take any of that stuff; who knows what might happen…!"

"Jim, you can't just ignore what happened yesterday with your senses and your allergies, and look outside!" Sandburg gestured at the glass doors. "It's going to be sunny and warm again today; the rain's gone, and there'll be pollen all over the place—"

"Sandburg, have you forgotten what happens when I take cold medicine? I fell off a damn TRAIN, for God's sake—"

Blair whirled around to face his partner, fists clenched, frustration and something else – terror? – suffusing his face. "I didn't say cold medicine, I said allergy medicine. And NO, I have not forgotten what happens! I was THERE, remember? I was on that damn train, and I…thought…you…were…dead, man! I thought you were DEAD!" He stared at the Sentinel, chest heaving, ocean-blue eyes glittering.

Ellison, about to come back with another angry retort, abruptly snapped his mouth shut, and sighed. "Whoops, here we go again. Time out. C'mere, Chief." He held out an arm and made a beckoning gesture with his other hand. Blair, still glaring and breathing hard, hesitated. "Come on, get over here." Another encouraging gesture, this time accompanied by a head jerk.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Blair limped forward and found himself being pulled against Jim's solid shoulder. "I'm sorry, I—" _Damn, another apology! And I was_ _right_ _, damn it!_

"We're both sorry." Jim's voice rumbled over his head, and Blair felt a warm hand patting his back. "I know how you felt, remember? There've been a couple of times I thought you were dead, too." He was silent a moment, automatically continuing his reassuring pats, fighting to suppress the memory he dreaded most: _Blair, lying lifeless beside the fountain near Hargrove Hall as the paramedics shook their heads and murmured sympathies, and the detectives from Major Crimes watched in stunned horror…._ "I thought we weren't going to do this any more, after yesterday," he reminded his partner gently. "I'm not trying to be difficult on purpose. It's just…I mean, I know you have my best interests in mind, Sandburg, but—"

"That's just it, I do! That's why I said children's allergy medication, Jim!" Blair huffed with amused indignation. He pulled his head back far enough to meet the Sentinel's gaze, making no attempt to restrain or disguise his smile. "Tiny dosages of antihistamine, man! If you take it before we leave, it ought to kick in while I'm still with you, and we can make sure nothing goes wrong. We should have tested it a long time ago, but for now, we'll just have to wing it. And for the headaches – you can take Tylenol or naproxen, you know you can; if you just remember to carry some with you and take it as soon as you feel a headache start, or your sinuses start hurting…."

"Okay, okay, calm down before you hyperventilate." Jim expelled a long, resigned sigh, but he was smiling too. "I'll get some. I will, Chief. Go take your shower."

The Guide started once more for the bathroom, only to stop in his tracks, an expression of dismay crossing his face. "Oh NO!"

"What's wrong?" Ellison, halfway out the door, jerked around in alarm at his partner's cry.

"My things – my hairdryer, my razor, all my hair stuff, my aftershave, everything….It's in my car! I left my pack there when I walked back, last night!"

Calling on every ounce of fortitude he possessed, Jim managed to school his features into sympathy instead of hysterical laughter. "Aw Chief, that's too bad!"

Blair eyed him malevolently. "Ellison, if you laugh at me about this, I swear I'll take one of the kitchen knives to you—"

"Do you see me laughing?" Jim held out his hands towards his Guide in a pacifying gesture. "Look, there're some disposable razors in the bottom drawer, and it won't kill you to use my shampoo and aftershave for once, will it?"

"No, but man! there isn't any conditioner, and my hair….This is so not going to be a pretty sight, Jim!" Sandburg turned away, shaking his head despairingly.

Desperately trying to keep his emotions under strict control, Jim hurried out the door. Once safely down by his truck, where he knew Blair couldn't hear him, he laughed until he cried.

In the bathroom, Blair started the shower water and propped up his foot to remove the Ace bandage. He was apprehensive about it; sure, it _felt_ better than it had last night, and he was able to walk okay, just as Jim had predicted, but what if, when he no longer had the support of the elastic wrap, it was bad….

 _Well…ouch. And ick._ Sandburg surveyed his ankle dubiously. The swelling was down, that was good. He tentatively put some weight on it. Okay, it didn't hurt too badly; it was more stiff and achy than anything else. But sheesh, the bruising was nasty-looking! Blues and purples and reds in interesting patterns…well, at least horrible-looking bruises were usually faster to heal than those deep-down bone bruises that didn't really show much, but hurt like hell for weeks after. But if Jim got a look at this, and his Blessed Protector instincts kicked in – _Lordy, Lordy, he'll have kittens! A whole litter of black panther kittens, rampaging around the loft and clawing the furniture!_ A slightly hysterical giggle followed that thought, and Blair decided he'd better quit letting all the hot water go down the drain, and get into the shower.

While luxuriating in the warmth, he continued to think about the Sentinel's problems with allergies and what to do about them. If only Jim didn't always buck about running any tests involving stuff like that cold medicine! It was natural that he'd feel apprehensive about taking it, after what had happened before, but as it was, Blair had nothing to go on as far as alternate solutions. He was fervently hoping that child's allergy medicine might work, but it was still a case of 'cross your fingers.'

After finishing the shower, Blair did a hasty re-wrap of his ankle, betting that they would be too rushed for Jim to demand to check it. He really didn't want his partner going all mother-hen on him for no good reason, and he had to admit, it looked pretty ugly.

By the time Blair emerged from the bathroom, clad in t-shirt and boxers and hair smoothed back into a ponytail, Ellison had returned, and was leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking coffee. Blair looked around. "Where's breakfast?"

"In the truck; I didn't see any reason to drag it in here and then back out. Snap it up, Chief—" Jim paused frowning. He stared down at his Guide's left foot. "You wrapped it? I figured I would."

"I'm not a complete idiot, Jim, and I've taken all those first-aid classes the department requires. I'm capable of wrapping up my own ankle." Sandburg edged towards his bedroom. "I'd better get dressed, so we can go."

Jim was having none of it. He pointed to a kitchen chair. "Nice try, Darwin; sit down."

"Jim, it's fine—"

"Sandburg – sit." Jim squatted down beside the chair and snapped his fingers imperatively.

Blair sat. And made a valiant attempt to distract his partner.

"What did you get for breakfast? When you went out, did the pollen start to bother you? And what kind of allergy medicine did you pick up? Shouldn't you take it pretty soon, so it can start to work?"

"You'll find out in a bit. Yes, a little, but I wasn't outside all that long. Children's Allerest, and yes, I'll take it pretty soon. Hold still, Sandburg."

The distraction ploy obviously wasn't working. 

Blair tensed as the elastic bandage was removed and Jim got a good look at his ankle. _Kittens…black panther kittens._ "It looks worse than it feels, really…"

Jim frowned, then arched an expressive eyebrow. "Chief, you look like a tie-dyed shirt!" He ran careful fingers over the bruises. "Swelling's way down; that's good. And you were walking on it. How's that feel – there?"

"Not too bad – ow! You did that on purpose….No, really, Jim, it's all right. It's fine." Blair wriggled slightly, making another futile attempt to escape.

"Sit still. Jesus, Sandburg, you're worse than a three-year-old!"

Blair huffed indignantly, watched the detective's sure hands re-wrap the injury, and had to admit that Jim did a much better job than he had.

Jim patted him, rose from his crouch on the floor and jerked a thumb in the direction of the French doors. "Better get a move on, hadn't you?"

"I wasn't the one who chose to sit down, ya know." Blair got up and made his way across the floor. "I'll be right out. And Jim? Take one of those allergy pills now, so it can have time to work!"

"Yes, Mom. I will, Mom. Give it a rest, Mom!"

When they got down to the street, Blair noticed that a brand-new, five-gallon gas can sat in the truck bed. Jim evidently didn't intend on him running short of fuel before he got to a gas station! He pulled himself into the passenger seat and proceeded to rummage through the intriguing sack of breakfast items sitting on the seat between his spot and Jim's.

"Breakfast burritos! All RIGHT!"

Ellison grinned and turned the key in the ignition. "You were expecting donuts, weren't you? Admit it!" He dug into the sack himself, before putting the truck into gear.

Blair, mouth full, just made a rude gesture in reply.

Once they were underway, Jim cast a speculative look at his happily munching partner. "You sleep okay?"

Sandburg tilted an inquiring eyebrow and mumbled through a mouthful of burrito. "Yeah, I guess so; why?"

The Sentinel looked a little uncomfortable. "Dunno Chief, you just—you still look kind of tired, that's all." He kept his gaze on the road.

"Well…" Blair swallowed, then took a gulp of coffee and chuckled a little. "I'll admit, I did have some totally weird dreams."

"Nightmares?" Concern laced Jim's voice.

"Nah, just weird."

"Okay, I'm up for weird this morning; let's hear 'em." Jim settled into his seat, relaxing as they gained the highway to Silverdale; and took a bite of his own breakfast sandwich.

"Well, first, it was the opening of the exhibit at the U., ya know? All the campus bigwigs were there – everyone from the Anthro department, the Archeology department, the History department. The Chancellor. The Dean. People covering it for the newspaper. They all came marching into the hall…and there I was, sitting on the floor, still madly hand-writing out tags for the artifacts!" Blair shuddered at the recollection, and comforted himself with another bite. "AND I was dripping wet, 'cause I'd been walking in the rain, and the descriptions kept getting smeared."

"Whew." Jim winced at the image his partner evoked.

"Then the scene shifted, and you and I were here in the truck. We'd been interviewing people about the garden statuary thefts, I guess – and then the back of the truck was suddenly full of gnomes and whirligigs and birdbaths and all that sort of stuff. I guess we must have found whoever took them…." Blair began to chortle again.

"Sandburg!" Jim cast a horrified look over his shoulder into the truck bed, making sure there really _weren't_ any of those items lurking there. There had better _not_ be any garden gnomes in his precious truck!

"And you kept sneezing and saying that you were allergic to gnomes! And then I woke up. So I don't know what we ended up doing with all that junk."

Ellison roared with laughter, shaking his head. "Chief, that's awful. I think that's one of the scariest things I've ever heard!" Again, he glanced apprehensively through the back window, and shuddered. "After this, drink some milk before you go to bed. Maybe it'll help."

Sandburg just snorted and finished his burrito.

*****"You're sure you're not having any side effects?"

"I feel fine. No sensory spikes, no headache."

"And no allergy symptoms?" Blair persisted.

"Can't have everything, Sandburg." Jim paused, stifling a sneeze. "But it's nothing like yesterday. And I'll take another one of those kids' tablets at noon, just to make sure."

"You'll call me if you need me, right?" The Guide was jittering nervously as he stood next to the Ford truck.

"Promise, Chief." Ellison's tone was patient.

"Dials working okay?"

Jim closed his eyes briefly, visualizing. "Yep, they're good." He opened them again and gazed down at his partner with amused affection. "I'm keeping things turned low, to be on the safe side."

"You'll be careful not to concentrate on anything so hard you zone…"

"I always am when you're not with me, Chief. Trust me, I am."

"And if you start getting a headache or anything—"

"Saaaaaandburg."

Blair reddened. "Too much hovering?"

"Entirely too much. Scram, Junior. Get to school. Good luck with the exhibits." Jim started to shut the window, then stopped. "Oh, um…Blair? Take it easy on the ankle, okay? Stay off of it as much as you can. I'll talk to you later."

Blair stepped back and watched Jim drive away, smiling.

"He got stranded out by Silverdale and still didn't call you, eh?" Captain Banks eyed his top detective sourly. "And you still say things are okay between you two?"

"Simon…let's let it drop, okay? Just take my word for it that it's smoothed over. Sandburg's back to nagging me about things; what does that tell you?"

"It tells me you're henpecked, for one thing. I'll take your word for it as long as I don't see any more scenes like the one I saw yesterday."

 _HENPECKED?_ Jim's jaw tightened. "You won't. Sir." He got to his feet. "Now, if I might be excused? I seem to remember something about disappearing birdbaths…."

Banks waved a dismissive hand. "Go, go."

To his utter surprise, Ellison discovered that once he actually started _working_ with the files from the garden gnome case, instead of staring at them and invoking curses, things went smoothly. His eyewitness was home when he telephoned, and agreed to talk to him with no hesitation.

" _Just as long as I don't have to leave the house,"_ the brisk feminine voice said, _"I'm babysitting my granddaughter at the moment."_

"Yes, Mrs. Carr, I understand. I'll be there within half an hour."

Whatever _grandmotherly_ image Jim had pulled up out of his subconscious, he revised it quickly upon his arrival at the attractive Carr home on its quiet cul-de-sac. Deirdre Carr was unlike any sort of traditional grandmother. She was tiny and slender and energetic, with warm hazel eyes and long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was dressed in jeans, a purple t-shirt, and running shoes, and didn't look to be much over 40.

She welcomed the Sentinel in, and ushered him to a family room littered with books, children's toys and sports equipment. "Sorry for the mess; I have two kids in high school, as well as occasionally babysitting for my oldest daughter. Between their junk and hers…." She tilted a head towards the kitchen area, where a toddler who appeared to be about 18 months old peered cautiously at the tall detective from around a corner.

 _Sandburg would already be down on the floor playing with her,_ Ellison thought, and had a sudden desire to try the same sort of tactic.

"Hi there, sweetheart. My name's Jim. What's yours?" He smiled at her, and the little girl smiled back, approached, and raised her arms. She had dark eyes and wispy brown hair, part of which was pulled into a beribboned 'Pebbles Flintstone' sort of knot atop her head.

"Up!" she commanded imperiously.

Jim blinked.

"UP!" she repeated.

"Honey, he might not—" Mrs. Carr moved to intercede.

"No, it's okay. It's fine." The Sentinel bent down and lifted the little girl to his shoulder. He was enchanted with the feel of her sturdy little body and the way she fearlessly snuggled against him. "Hey, you're a cutie, aren't you?"

"That's Gwennie," Mrs. Carr told him. "Short for Guinevere, of all things! I have no idea what my daughter and son-in-law were thinking when they chose that name. Oh well, as long as they don't name the next one Lancelot, I suppose it's okay."

"Hi, Gwennie." Jim sat down, cuddling Gwennie on his lap, and chuckling as she began investigating the badge clipped to his belt. He suspected that it was a very good thing his gun was safely concealed in its back holster where she'd never see it! He reached into his pocket for a pen and notebook. "Mrs. Carr, let's go over what you saw, okay…?"

Fifteen minutes later, Jim departed, exchanging bye-bye waves with Gwennie and brushing graham cracker crumbs off his shirt. Gwennie had been adamant about sharing a snack with the big detective, and Jim had obligingly munched the pieces she'd offered him. He couldn't remember when he'd so enjoyed interviewing a witness!

Deirdre Carr had been a gold mine of information. She'd been suspicious of the activity in her neighbors' yard. She'd caught part of the strange pickup's license plate, and because the letters happened to match those of a car she had once owned, she could identify the model year. Jim mentally blessed the Washington Department of Motor Vehicles for the way they issued license plates in batches. She knew the color of the pickup, and she'd gotten a brief glimpse of the driver. She'd actually gotten in her car and followed, for a few blocks, and although she ruefully admitted she'd lost her chance to tail her quarry further, she _had_ observed it taking a turnoff which led to one of Cascade's gated communities.

Now, if a computer search for a vehicle/plate match only came through, Jim could claim probable cause, and get justification for a warrant….

*****"You GOT – her? It was a her?"

Jim grinned with deep satisfaction, leaning against the doorjamb of the exhibit hall and folding his arms. "Yep. Once the license plate came through, I had a name and address. The woman was caught red-handed with a shed full of sh…stuff. She'd been selling it on eBay, if you can believe it! And doing a damned good business, too!"

"WHOO-HOO!" Blair raised both fists into the air in a gesture of triumph.

"That's great, man! And your allergies were okay, and your senses?"

"The senses were fine. The allergies….Well, I just kept taking those kids' Allerest tabs, like you said to. It wasn't perfect, but it was…okay."

"Thank God!" Sandburg blew out a sigh of relief. He'd been worrying himself to a frazzle all day over that allergy medicine, and the fact that Jim hadn't taken time to call him and tell him what was going on hadn't helped.

"I even finished up the paperwork. Well, most of it." Jim wrinkled his nose expressively, then laughed. "Right now, Simon is convinced I can walk on water."

Blair's blue eyes sparkled with delight. "Maybe you can. Maybe it's a Sentinel trait we haven't discovered yet," he teased. "Maybe we should run some tests—"

"Maybe you shouldn't get any cute ideas, Darwin," Ellison warned. "How's the exhibit setup going? And how's the ankle?"

"The ankle's okay. I taught my class sitting on the edge of my desk, instead of pacing around. All the kids thought the world was coming to an end. And Andy's been incredible with the exhibit." Blair waved a hand at the room, then at his computer screen. "I'm writing up the description labels and printing them, and he's unpacking the artifacts and sticking 'em on. It's kept me mostly off my feet all afternoon, except to walk to the printer in the office, and occasionally check on the displays. We should be able to finish up tomorrow, easy." He looked at his watch. "I think I can even take the evening off!" He raised his voice to carry across the room. "Andy, let's stop for the night, huh? We can finish tomorrow morning." The tall redhead looked around, nodded agreement, and waved a greeting to Jim.

"In that case, Chief, let's get the hell out of here!" Jim was leaning across the table and tugging at his Guide's arm before Blair even saw him move. "Come on, how about Giovanni's for dinner tonight – my treat!"

"Your treat? Hey, I am so down with that….Just give me a minute to shut things down."

They made their way out of Huntingdon Hall, Jim's arm draped casually over his Guide's shoulders, as it so often was. Blair's hand easily slid to its accustomed position resting at the small of Ellison's back – resting, he realized with a tiny jolt, just above the reassuring solid bulk of Jim's holstered service revolver.

 _When did I get so comfortable with_ _that_ _? Naomi would have a fit!_ After a moment's reflection, Blair decided that Naomi's opinion didn't matter in the least in this case. He was happy with the situation exactly the way it was. He looked around at the quiet campus with satisfaction. "Wow, isn't it a pretty evening, Jim? Nothing like spring in Cascade, huh…?"

The Sentinel smiled _. Well, now that you mention it…yeah. There's nothing like spring in Cascade._


End file.
